SURVIVE.
❝ Let the end of the world be
inside you, then you don't
need to fear the end
of the world out there. ❞
THE WALKING DEAD.
DARYL DIXON.
BOOK ONE of the LANCASTER SAGA.
[ SEASONS 1 - 3 ]
******
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[ x. attacked ]
october 24th, 2010
➸➸➸
ASTRID LANCASTER'S EYES REMAINED wide with disbelief as she stared at the place where the van had been parked and left behind mere hours ago. Now, the vehicle was gone entirely. How was that even possible? They had only been in Atlanta half of the afternoon, and though it had been discovered they were not the only souls that still drew breath in the city, Astrid knew that Guillermo's group was not responsible for this theft.
Glenn appeared to be thinking the same thing, his voice trembling with shock. "Who could have taken the van?" He demanded.
Rick took a deep breath, anger glistening on his sweaty features. "Merle," He stated simply, as if were the most obvious answer in the world. His tone dripped with disgust, with horror, and Astrid shivered as she tried to make the connection. As she thought about the potential scenario, Rick did make a point, but how could Merle have made it this far to the city's outskirts without a hand? She scanned the surroundings, desperately searching for any clues—for any blood—any sign at all of Merle's presence, but there was nothing to be found.
Astrid could not shake the feeling that something was not right about this, that Merle Dixon might not be responsible for the van's disappearance.
"There's no sign that he was ever here," She pointed out. She was willing to play Devil's Advocate.
"How can you tell?" T-Dog asked from behind her.
"There's no blood," She informed. Her green eyes scanned the surrounding area once more, hoping to find some sliver of evidence that could explain the van's absence. The others soon joined in, eyeing the asphalt for even the smallest bloodstain to counter her claim. But there was no evidence at all, and the silence that followed upon that revelation was heavy, suffocating.
"Maybe the bleedin' stopped," Daryl argued. "Doesn't matter, either way," a grumbling sound escaped his throat, "'cause Merle's goin' to be bringin' vengeance back to camp, no matter what."
Astrid remained unconvinced that Merle would be awaiting them back at camp. Still, her concerns were left unfocused, unanswered. Standing in the space where the van was once parked, Rick had matters within his own hands to take.
"Let's go, then," He decided, his gaze fixed on the long road ahead and the mountains where their camp awaited. The weight of their predicament settled heavily on Astrid's shoulders, her stomach twisting into knots of unease. The miles between them and their promised safety seemed insurmountable, especially with the unknown dangers that lurked in their path. Who knew how many walkers lay ahead?
"Do we have to go on foot?" Astrid questioned nervously, placing her hands on her hips. "Couldn't we, I don't know, hotwire a car or something?"
Rick shook his head. "There's no time," He shot down. "We've already been here too long. Those back at camp are probably starting to worry. We need to get back before we lose what's left of the daylight."
